


Caught in Flagrante

by ruthy4vrsmoaked



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is the Hero, F/M, Goyle Being the usual Idiot, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Minor Ron Weasley Bashing, Romance, Smut, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 02:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthy4vrsmoaked/pseuds/ruthy4vrsmoaked
Summary: Scorpius and Lyra Malfoy ask mummy and daddy to tell their romantic story aka How Draco fell in love with Hermione and became her hero.Or aka how the Malfoy Crest Ring became a Hermione-Mood Ring. Or aka how Hermione uplifted Draco's broody mood.





	Caught in Flagrante

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the fairytale the Crystal Ball by Brothers Grimm. Thank you to TheMourningMadam for hosting this fest <3 
> 
> If you want to read the original: https://fairytalez.com/the-crystal-ball/
> 
> Beta'ed by the fabulous FictionAficionado, who is also a fantastic sassy-Alpha. She helped me tremendously finding the right path to tackle this fairy tale, during a trying time. It's thanks to her sassy spirit that I found the energy to finish my task. Can't thank her enough and therefore she deserves the title of co-author.

** **

**Caught in Flagrante**

Her eyes fluttered before they squinted, unable to shield the daylight bathing the room; “Forgot to close the drapes again”, she grunted her thoughts out loud.

She rolled onto her side, and wiggled her behind against a hardening groin. Come to think of it, the promise of a sunny summer day was not a bad way to wake up.

“It took you a while to wake up, minx.” Draco’s voice rumbled in her ear, his hand slipped under her nightie and slithered up to her bosom. “I was about to summon my wand and amplify those chirping birds until you woke up.”

“So needy this early in the morning?” She ground her arse against his crotch once more and hummed.

“This fine piece of arse has been wiggling against my cock for quite some time now, demanding a spank for not closing the curtains.” The hand squeezed the plump flesh before it returned to the main task: tweaking a nipple until it hardened. “Your dream must have been a wet one if I go by your small noises, my darling.”

“You must have been dreaming…” A new wiggle followed, her belly bubbling from a muted giggle. “I do no such thing.”

“Ah, you’re funny, we should test a theory, then...” One hand focused on the neglected breast while the other slithered down and into her knickers; his middle finger probed between the folds and dipped into the slick entrance. “Strange, it feels soaked down here.”

The pumping finger stroked gently moving the hand moments later to her back, shifting her top leg over his; her puckered hole receiving brief attention before the fingers invaded her soaked core once again. The new angle offered more depth, Draco increasing the pace determinate. Hermione extended the torture, rubbing circles around her hooded clit, resting her forehead on Draco’s shoulder, the short puffs of air felt as licks of flames against his skin.

Draco focused on her extended neck, tongue licking a patch on the sensitive skin seconds before the teeth left dents on the column and ended marking it with a bite. “Will you tell me what you dreamed of?”

His sleeping pants were barely a barrier between his groin and her globes, his shaft humping at its own volition, guided by her moans, alternating between slow and fast thrusts. With a flip of his wrist, the tips of his digits found her special place and brushed it until a flood of wetness soaked his palm; after all these years he knew perfectly which buttons to play.

“You were doing exactly this…” She gulped, breath stalling in her throat, “It must be that time in the month… when I feel hornier than usual...” A shaken intake of breath followed, “Ah...fuck… don’t stop.”

She turned her face to meet his lips, his tongue invading her mouth to taste her every corner. “Give me your squeezing cunt, witch. Come on my fingers, so I can fuck you thoroughly and milk at least one more orgasm out of your body.” His digits rutted inside her walls now, his other hand shoving her fingers away and taking over the pinching and rubbing eights around her clit. “Come for me, Hermione.”

Hermione arched away from him as struck by lighting. Jolts of electricity burned through her veins, small wails escaping her throat. “Ah, gods... Draco…”

Consumed by a primal need, he made quick work of his night pants and trunks mercilessly down his legs until they were low enough to free his shaft. However, the intention to pounce into her core was thwarted by his aroused witch who flipped him onto his back and straddled his waist in a quick move.

Hermione took control, guiding a pale hand towards her breast, demonstrating the way she wanted to be pinched while she placed his free thumb on her bundle of nerves and set the desired rhythm. Satisfied, her hands sought support on his pectorals.

He drunk the sight she formed, curls bouncing at the same pace as her bosom, mewls floating in the air mixing with his grunts; his cock glistening from her slick, disappearing inside her walls all the way to the hilt, “You look so hot, love. Ride my dick, witch…”

She bit her lip, rising straight up, “You love it, don’t you? My Slytherin husband loves it when my golden cunt rides his silver cock.” Her own coil of fire pooled at her abdomen, a bomb of senses waiting for the impending explosion. The obscene slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room, echoing along with his guttural rumbles and her moans. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

Hermione erupted first, a ghosting finger at her rear entrance and a pinch on her clit pushing over the edge. Her cry was louder than intended, both suddenly aware forgetting to raise a Muffliato as a precaution. But her orgasm blinded her senses, her walls squeezing around his cock so hard that he lost the last bit of control he still had left.

His hands flew to her waist and kept her in place while he pumped his shaft upward, feeling his come flood her core. They spaced out for a few heartbeats, all senses blurred while they stared at each other in silence.

Suddenly, the doorknob twisted and the door opened wide bumping against the drawer chest.

Hermione grabbed a sheet to cover herself seconds before two little blonds invaded their room. The toddlers jumped on their marital bed and bounced with excitement. “Mummy, Daddy, it’s time to wake up, the sun is awake!”

“Scorpius, what has Daddy said about entering mummy and’ daddy’s room?” Draco was faster to regain composure than his wife, who he held cradled against his chest while she spectacularly failed in her attempt to stealthily slide off his waist, calm her breath and conceal her blushing. Internally, she was kicking herself for forgetting to close the curtains and raise a decent Colloportus after she came to bed last night.

“To knock on your door, Daddy. But Daddy, you’ didn’t hear Lyra or me. We screamed very loud, Daddy, but mummy was screaming much louder.” Both mother and father flushed, Hermione hiding her face in the pit of his arm.’ Lyra’s next comment was a nail on her coffin of embarrassment. “Was Mummy in pain, Daddy? Mummy, do you want a kiss on your ouchie”

“Huh, no… hmm.” Caught in post-coital bliss, his Slytherin mind was unable to come up with a suitable response. His wife, usually very vocal, offered no help, whispering a quiet “No, thank you,” into his armpit that was barely audible to him, let alone their over-excited children.

His curly-haired daughter climbed up his chest, sitting just a few inches away from his sheet-covered groin. To be caught just moments after the deed was the best way to soften his member faster-than-lightning. For a second, he feared to be exposed bare as he was the day he was born; he stashed the sheet as hard as possible between the mattress and his body against any unwanted exposure.

“Daddy, Mummy,” pleaded Lyra, in that sugary tone she knew made her father do anything she pleased, “Please tell us your story again… how you became our mummy and daddy…”

Hermione cleared her throat, finally gaining some composure, “Well, we’ll tell you all about it if you let us dress first and go downstairs for breakfast.”

“No, Mummy, we want to hear your story now!” Draco winced from the little finger poking his abdomen. Hermione didn’t need to look at her husband to know his gaze screamed, ‘I wonder whom she got her stubbornness from?’

Only a year and a half older than his sister, the five-year-old Scorpius was the calmer one of their two children. They had planned to wait a while before trying for a second child; however, a poorly brewed potion threw a spanner in the works. From then on, though grateful for Lyra, Draco concocted her stuff in his lab at home.

“Love, I fear’ we’ll never get away from this bed if you’ don’t comply.” He sugar-coated his comment with an ear-wide grin, keeping a steady hand on his’ daughters’ waist to prevent the lowering of a particular little behind and the inevitable bouncing on his man-parts. He always felt quite sensitive around that area after a decent shagging.

The ferocious brown glare he received in return promised nothing than retaliation, but usually, those ended up very pleasant for both parties.

In fact, he never grew tired to relive the way he struck this amazing woman in his web, still thanking the gods and all the wizards for this wonder.

“Alright, listen carefully…” She cleared her throat; Scorpius sought a place between the two adults, head resting against her bosom on top of the white sheet. “Eight years ago, one year after…”

###  ***Autumn 1999***

Hogwarts licked its wounds and healed its scars insofar possible.

The stone structure recovered the fastest, thanks to the combined efforts of professors, students and volunteers from Hogsmeade and beyond. A monument as their school acted as the pillar of belief. If its walls stood upright, then their community had a chance to survival, at a rebirth.

The invisible scars, well those took longer to heal. Instead of restarting a new school year between the rubble, the newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall chose to postpone the academic restart with a year, aware that she was setting back the education of those first-years class of ‘98. Yet, under the current circumstances - the mental state of her teachers’ corps and the broken infrastructure - no classes could decently take place.

At the same time, McGonagall decided to create an exceptional eighth-year, for those whose graduation had been compromised. Their presence was by no means obligatory, in fact, the twentyish students all accepted the invitation voluntarily, except for one single Slytherin. For him, it was one last year at Hogwarts or 12-month confinement at Azkaban.

Years later, he came to learn how two-thirds of the Golden Trio were personally responsible for this positive turn of events, with Harry Potter forcefully making the Wizengamot understand that Draco acted under duress, and Hermione passionately arguing how redemption could not be found between cold stone walls. “Malfoy deserves a chance to reform, where better than Hogwarts?” asked the witch, counting on Draco’s common sense to make a wise choice.

Draco grabbed this opportunity with both hands, aware his presence would be undesired by the most inside the castle, preferring to face well-deserved judgement inside Hogwarts than wither away in the hell called Azkaban.

Of his former group of friends, only Theo, Blaise and Greg returned. Pansy had been married off by her parents, against her will; similar fate fell to the Greengrass sisters, not that Draco missed any of the female counterparts. The less whining on his ear, the better, he had already enough on his plate.

The backlash was worse than expected; it took him a while to get used to the hexing, the bullying and his figuratively tied-up hands. Retaliation meant a merciless one-way ticket to Azkaban, the proverbial sword against his throat. Instead, he learned to cope, to keep his head down and mind his own business in solitude around the castle if his friends were elsewhere; in the meantime, counting down the days to freedom. Free from Hogwarts and the Manor. Start anew where no one knew who the Malfoys were.

Until then, he endured whatever people threw his way, especially second and third years’ who took the most pleasure in stressing how low the Malfoy heir had sunk.

Of the returning Gryffindors from his year, Longbottom was probably the most neutral, nodding a good morning in the passage. Granger neglected him, but she seemed to be dealing with her own share of trouble. Finnigan and Thomas, their behaviour depended on their mood; one day, they’d ignore his presence, the other, they would join in the hate.

There was one point of light. Two-thirds of the Golden Trio had not returned to Hogwarts, having accepted the offer to join the Auror corps, if only to escape one last academic year and the dreadful amount of homework that came with it. Draco was pleased with their decision, dealing with Scarhead and the Weasel could have been the straw that broke the hippogriff’s back.

\--

“I’ll pair you up for this week’s assignment: brew a wit-sharpening potion. I expect you to work in a civilised way to achieve the best results.” Unexpectedly, Slughorn paired Hermione to Draco during an advanced potions class. The professor’s decision left them with no other choice.

Instead of the expected eye-rolls and rage, Hermione cut to the point, “We’re both mature enough to cooperate, I hope?”

“My only goal is to pass every class; I won’t give you any trouble.” She was the best option inside this room. He had neither the time nor the patience to deal with dumb heads.

“Fine, can you start up the cauldron? I’ll gather the ingredients.” He shrugged, watching her repeat the list of ingredients over and over on her way to the cabinet.

\--

In the end, he couldn’t recall working with a better partner for potions and surprisingly enough, it was Hermione who started to join his table voluntarily when it came to a partnership.

“At least, with you, I won’t need to contribute beyond my own fair share of work.” She explained her behaviour in a reserved tone. He nodded, masking his enthusiasm at her decision.

Their cooperation gradually extended beyond Potions. One day, she scared the shit out of him when she dropped unceremoniously her pile of books on the table he occupied at the Library. “Keep your mouth shut, let me study in peace, you hijacked the quietest table in here,” she said through gritted teeth, though her ire wasn’t directed at him.

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Sorry, I came here to get away from the imbecile chatter going on in my common room, and found you occupying my favourite table.”

“Be my guest, Granger.” He returned to his own task, pretending not to keep an eye on her movements.

“What are you working on?” For someone who hated the chatter, she sure liked to chat a lot.

“Advanced Arithmancy.” He turned his parchment slightly towards her.

She gave it a quick look, “I finished that one yesterday. I’m working on the Charms assignment. There’s a mistake on your second theory.”

He glared at her then rechecked his work. His frown straightened a little when he realised she was right. He made a fucking rookie mistake in his calculations. “Thanks, Granger.”

\--

Slowly but steadily, she sought him out as a study partner. For the peace, while studying or the eventual - sometimes heated - discussion of theories, ideas and those questions that made sense. She discovered a kindred mind, he an engaging woman who forced him to regret his actions before the war.

“Hermione, one should not study with a nasty creature like him,” Seamus said, standing behind her. “Join us at our table; be among your own kind.”

“My own kind...? What is that supposed to mean?” She cussed in her mind the apparent lack of goodwill to move on.

“Well, the kind who doesn’t consider your blood filthy. This despicable piece of shit is only polluting the air you breathe.” Seamus jerked his chin, staring defiantly into a pair of irate grey eyes.

Draco breathed deeply, closing his eyes to keep calm,  _ It’s one of those days. _

“Seamus, are we going down that road again? Grow up and move on, will you? I wonder, would you have acted differently if it was your mother who was threatened?” Her gaze fixed the Irish bloke on the spot.

At once, every Gryffindor and Slytherin was looking at her. Seamus inquired, “What do you mean, Hermione?”

She snapped, “I mean that instead of all the nattering, you could sit down and ask him why he almost killed Dumbledore. Notice, I said  _ almost _ !”

“Like it’s a public secret... This tosser wanted to please his Dark Lord; he followed the rules of the snake face.” Dean was quick to reply.

“Voldemort threatened to kill his mother if he failed the task he received as punishment for his father’s failure. Now tell me what would you have done in his place?” She twisted her upper body to face both wizards, arm over the back of her chair, her gaze switching between their faces. “Like I thought. Now, stop disturbing my study time, will you? I have better things to do.”

“I still don’t like him; this prejudiced twat.” Seamus huffed.

“Are you done with your mantrum?” Hermione rolled her eyes, the drumming in the back of her head, announcing the start of a headache.  _ Why bring ancient history to the table? _

“With my what?” Seamus blinked while Dean tilted his head behind the Scottish wizard in confusion.

“Your petty display… Go play in the kindergarten, please. I really have no time to deal with your pissing contest.” Hermione threw a killing glare at a snickering Draco. “Or do you want me to measure whose John Thomas is the biggest?”

Every male jaw dropped, seeking a retort in vain.

In the end, the Gryffindors left her table blushing as red as the Slytherin next to her.

It was silent for a few heartbeats.

“Thank you, Granger.” He cleared his throat, looking everywhere except her face, “You don’t need to defend me. I’m the last person to deserve it.”

“Indeed, but I hate injustice. I’m not proud of what I had to do to my parents to keep them safe, I understand your reasons though I judge you for not seeking help in time.” She gathered her books and quills, no longer in the mood to study.

For a second, Draco’s old sneer resurfaced, “As if you, Scarhead or the Weasel would have helped me.”

“That is something you’ll never know. Good evening, Malfoy. See you tomorrow.”

She marched back to her dorm, unaware of the pain etched in the face of the blond she abandoned. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing all emotions to the outside world.

###  ***Christmas 1999***

Hermione crammed her books inside her packed bag while listening to Nearly-Headless Nick’s off-key carolling and the chattering in the distance. They had just finished the last Potions lesson for this year.

“You’re leaving?” asked Draco and instantly regretted the whiny tone of his voice.  _ Great! Now she’d know he’d been looking forward to spending time with her over Christmas. _

“Molly invited me to spend the holidays at the Burrow,” said Hermione, glancing sideways to where he stood waiting until she finished.

“Lucky you. I’ve always wanted to spend the holidays stuck between a bunch of redheads.” He side-eyed her with a tilt of the head.

Her eyes studied his face before a finger pointed at his chest, “I know what you’re doing. Don’t push your luck.”

Oh, she did know him well. But who could blame him for wanting to rile her up when she looked so good flushed with anger. If only he could see her cheeks flush red for other reasons.

She slung her bag over the shoulder with a huff, “You’re going to spend Christmas with your mother, right?” The question drew him out of his lewd musings.

“Yes, just mother and me.” He wasn’t looking forward to going home. With his father in Azkaban, the atmosphere at home would be far from festive, if the depressing tone of his mother’s letters were anything to go by. He would’ve preferred to spend his holidays at Hogwarts with Hermione, but if she wasn’t going to be here...

“Have a good holiday then. And don’t worry about getting me a present, not even a cursed one.” She said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before dashing off with a wink, to join her housemates.

_ Present _ ? He had been too gobsmacked by the fact that she had kissed him to ask what she meant.

He bent to pick up his satchel from the table and noticed the package she had left him. Eager to find out what it was, he tore through the wrapping. His heart began to flutter with hope when inside, along with a box of his favourite sugar quills, he found a crystal ball and a note, “I don’t want you to miss me too much. You’ll sense my mood through the light it sheds.”

He thumbed the ball, his lips twitching. He sought a place inside his robes, but the shape was unhandy and visible. Taking his wand out, he transfigured it into a gem, and he incorporated into his signet ring, the crystal now glowing bright between his family crest.

Satisfied with the result, he walked back to his room, shaking his head in disbelief despite the stubborn smile etched on his features.

###  *January 2000*

“If you keep staring so heatedly I’m sure your quill will go up in flames,” he said, trying to brighten her mood.

Since her return, they fell back into their pre-holidays routine of sharing study time, workbenches or a bout of fresh air during a walk outside. The bullying died a silent death, Merlin knew why perhaps due to the fairy-tallish looking castle covered in snow. 

Nowadays, he moved around freely, a tad humbler than before the war – but not too much. The leopard and its spots, you know; wonders don’t happen overnight.

"Don't you have anything to do?" Hermione flashed him an annoyed look. 

It was a miracle her quill survived the mishandling- the point almost bending from extreme pressure. Her mood had to change. He provoked her further, “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Why is it that I always have to repeat myself to be heard? Mind your own business, leave me be!” She flung her quill away and stood, hands lifted in the air, lips in a tight line. 

"Since you've returned from the Weasel's home, you've been in a foul mood, and I'm sure it got sourer since this morning." He knew in his gut he was right. "Talk to me; I'm the most intelligent wizard s you know."

“If I agreed with you, we’d be both wrong.” A groomed brown eyebrow wiggled elegantly. 

"Did he forget to kiss you goodbye? Didn't say enough times how much he loves you? Or how grateful he is that you feed him by hand, so no crumble is lost?" He was trying not to be offensive while also pushing her buttons until she cracked. 

“Ferret, it’s none of your business. Last time I checked, I didn’t buy any of your bullshite.” Her fingers twitched while she glared at his neck. 

He wasn't going to pay for the Weasel's sins. “I’m just a bloke trying to help a nice witch. Forget what I said then.” Draco waved his hand and feigned interest in the book open before him. A manicured finger following a line before the other hand transcribed its words.

“You think I’m a nice witch?” Hermione blinked.

“Since you let go of your swotty manners, yes, you’ve become more tolerable.” He never looked up from his writing. Head bobbing between book and parchment.

She gritted her teeth, "I knew you couldn't go five seconds without the name-calling." Crumpling a scrap of parchment, hurled it at his face. "Bullseye," she mumbled when the prop hit his nose. 

“You love me either way, admit it.” The wad of paper floated into the bin a few feet away. Draco put his wand back inside his robes and returned to his homework.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. I simply endure you.” Hermione set down her elbows on the table with a thump, inching closer to the blond. “Ronald is pushing to give our relationship a more permanent character. I’m not ready to commit yet, I want to wait.”

“Have you told the Weasel that? Using little words, he can understand...?” The delight of hearing her complain was shadowed by the pang of jealousy. That poor piece of a wizard incapable of appreciating a fine witch like Hermione. If she were his...

"I have. We're not dating. Ron's pushing me to it, but I'm not sure of my feelings. It doesn't feel right. Take for instance, when we kiss, it leaves me neutral like I'm kissing Neville on the cheek. It's nice, but I feel no…" She clamped her mouth shut as if she'd only just realised who she was talking to. Her cheeks turned red and she lowered her gaze. "Huh, never mind."

She drew away just as he inched closer, “You mean that instead of the girly butterflies like Pansy proclaimed to feel after a snog with me, nothing flutters in your belly?”  _ Wonder if I kissed her how she would feel? _ He knew how he'd react. 

Instantly,  memories played out like image flashes in his mind . Images of her cleavage peeping through the open collar, visions of her slim hand touching her neck which begged for a touch of his lips, recollections of a rebel curl escaping her wobbly bun. Thoughts which sparked his arousal fiercely, his hand jerking his cock passionately to completion while he lied in his bed at the Manor, finally acknowledging that he felt attracted to her.

“If you’re not up to take that step, then don't.” Maybe, luck didn’t abandon him completely. “It should feel the logical next step, not a walk towards your death sentence.”

“What do you think I’ve been telling Ronald the entire time?” There was the Hermione eye-roll he missed. “He says we are losing time, that we should do like Harry and Ginny who are making all sorts of plans after she graduates. They’ll be moving in ASAP to Grimmauld Place.” 

Immediately her face scrunched; he'd guess she was regretting sharing those details about closest her friends.

He pushed his chair back, crossed his ankles, and the arms at chest height, "Did he write this morning?" 

"Yes, to tell me he told his mother we'll be looking for a place to live shortly, and that his mother was thrilled with their decision." Her magic sizzled around her, just like her temperament - a marvellous sight, nevertheless he was grateful her ire wasn't directed at him.

“It baffles me how stupid a bloke can be. He’s signing his own death sentence.” The more Weasel pressured her, the bigger his own chances grew. “Here. You need this more than I do.” He slid a golden wrapped toffee over the table, “My mother hid a whole stash of them inside my trunk.”

She grabbed the sweet, gathered her stuff and stood up. Hermione stalled for a second and appeared to be debating something with herself seconds before she casually leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "Malfoy, you're not so bad after all."

The spot burned for hours, even after he wanked to the memory under the shower. He was so fucking doomed.

###  *Easter 2000*

Draco entered the common room whistling. He could barely contain himself from jumping in the air of excitement. After months of being the dutiful wizard, listening to the grievances of a curly-haired witch, Miss Hermione Granger finally agreed to accompany him on a visit to Hogsmeade.

He called it a date, she preferred the term a trip between friends.

But it was a date, for Merlin’s sake.

...Because friends don't seek excuses to touch the other. Nor send killing stares to the poor bloke who sat on a bench next to his witch, or when a nameless bint stared too long at his face. He brought her apples and toffees. She sneaked chocolate frogs to their table and stuck sugar quills between his books.

She ignored all the weird looks from people, and when approached, she'd say it was time people buried the hatchet and moved on. She didn’t sugar-coat his actions, but time after time, she fought to expose his motives.

Potter complied and had offered a hand by seeking him out during an early Hogsmeade visit.  The Weasel kept his distance,  his disdain for him blatantly obvious in his stare, probably feeling the competition blazing hot at his neck. 

It was no longer about surviving. Draco ached to win over Hermione starting by making amends for the mistreating in the past.

Even his mother was in the know after a confession par owl preferring to test the waters from a distance. He expected a howler as a possible worst-case scenario, Narcissa simply replied that it was up to him. His father had long lost his right to take a stand, and she would accept any witch of his choosing provided the girl in question treated him as he deserved.

_ Who better to spend the rest of his life with, than with a woman who owned more compassion in her little toe than most pureblood witches did in their entire body? _

Tomorrow, they were going to Hogsmeade. He would treat her to a decent afternoon tea at Madame Puddifoots, spoil her with sweets at Honeydukes and hopefully steal a real kiss before entering the grounds of Hogwarts. He was ready to step up his game, his groin was more than willing, and the hand was no longer enough.

-oOo-

“Look at who the cat dragged in. Mate, you look as if you’re in love.” Blaise mocked Draco’s reddened cheeks, “Can you just refrain from whistling? It’s not exactly on key.”

“Feeling lonely lately?” Two blond eyebrows wiggled, the lips setting a new airy tune. “Or a little jealous? After all, I am wooing the best witch inside this castle and beyond.”

“Has Granger declared her love already?” Theo teased, though he did enjoy seeing his friend return to his old self, “Following your passionate confession, of course?”

“Will you both keep it shut?”A pair of gossiping Slytherins spreading rumours would jeopardise his progress. 

“Well, if I got it right, you should step up your game fast, bro. I heard from Greg that Weasley was planning on making a move.”  Blaise smiled broadly at his nails while checking their sharpness.

"She doesn't want him. I read the letter she sent Weaselbee, she told him in the most polite way to fuck off." It took him all his self-control to not cradle her face, and kiss her thoroughly on the spot. She wrote the letter sitting next to him and didn't object to his peeking over her shoulder. Her decision was the consequence of a morning owl where the dumbarse announced to have found the perfect love lair.

“Well, ask Greg-” The door of a dormitory opened behind Blaise. “Speak of the devil ... Greg, mate, isn’t it true the Weasel asked for your help with Granger?”

The chubby wizard chewed the remains of a cauldron cake before answering. “Hmm. He asked me to guard the door to a secret room somewhere on the seventh floor while he has a chat with the mudbl-, ” A grey killing glare forced him to correct his words, “With Granger. Longbottom is bringing her over.”

A shiver ran through Draco’s spine, all his senses on high alert. “When is this happening?”

“I’m on my way now.” The oblivious wizard raised a hand as a goodbye before heading to the exit.

“What’s his plan? Do you know what he wants to do?” Draco ran after his old-time friend. “What does he want from Granger?”

“He told me she needs to be put back on track, that she railed off concerning their love and he’s going to have a chat to make her see the truth...or to force her to see the truth, I don’t know exactly how he phrased it.” The unwrapping of a toffee had priority.

“Why does he need you?” Panicked, he sounded shriller than normal. Draco’s gaze flicked between keeping an eye on his path, on the face of his cronies and on the colour of the crystal on his ring. For now, it was a neutral white. “You’re not his friend, mate.”

“He told me he was putting up a good word for me, so I could get a job as a janitor at the Ministry. I’m failing every class, Malfoy; I won’t get a better job.” Greg shrugged but kept moving.

Draco trailed along, fisting his wand. Greg's words affected him like some dementor sucking all his happiness away. 

-oOo-

“Ronald, how did you get inside Hogwarts?” Hermione was fuming, she couldn’t believe he enlisted Neville into dragging her all the way to the room of requirement -  _ “he needed to speak to her urgently.” _

She was still angry about his owl from four days ago, and did not regret ending their relationship. She didn’t want to be with him in any romantic capacity any longer. Her heart no longer focused on her ginger-haired friend, having moved on to a certain platinum blond instead.

She followed Neville because of his heartfelt plea and because she couldn't deny Ron one last conversation. 

“Hello Hermione, thank you for meeting me here.” Ron gave her one of his trademark goofy smiles.

“I don’t know what else is left to say, Ron. I care about you as a friend, but I don’t love you anymore.” She tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms at the chest.  _ Why didn’t I insist on meeting somewhere public? Avoid a Ron-tantrum?  _ Her anger distracted her from noticing Ron fidgeting with his wand.

“Mione, pumpkin, you’re acting irrationally. Forgive me, I know I rushed a few things, but when I saw this little house not far from mum’s, it felt immediately as our perfect family home. With five rooms, apart from ours.” He rubbed her shoulder, like old times.

“Five?” She choked on the prospect. While she wanted children, her preference went to two, three at the most. She did not wish to be a second Molly and pop a mini quidditch team of her own.

“Plus, there are two rooms where we definitely can house more than one child, love. Don’t you want a big family like mine?” Stealthily, he drove her away from the door towards the chair he readied. The entrance disappeared as soon as Hermione released the doorknob. He continued, “A few brown curly heads like you, the others with my typical Weasley red hair.”

Ron cut off her attempts at returning to the door. She felt nauseous.

When he walked towards her, she retreated backwards, until her knees bumped into the unexpected seat, and she fell unceremoniously on her arse.

“ _ Incarcerous _ !” Ron screeched, binding her to the seat. “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” Her wand flew into his hand. “Well, I tried to use the soft way, but you force me to employ a harder approach. You see, I've been hearing all sorts of stories about how chummy you've gotten with that Death Eater; how cosy you two look studying together, attending classes sitting next to each other, strolling down the gardens and such…” For good measure, he gagged her mouth with a cloth but not too tightly.

He paced back and forth after hiding her wand inside his breast pocket. “I can’t have that. I can’t have a piece of scum like Malfoy steal my girl. Have you forgotten how he called you mudblood?”

Hermione’s answer was muffled by the fabric between her lips.

“What was that?” 

He lowered the cloth just enough to hear her hiss, “He apologised thoroughly for his behaviour, Ronald! Wait until I’m grmphrfmmphm…” He muted her again.

“Ah, so nice of him. But you are mine, Hermione. You’re mine; you’ll be my wife and the mother of my children. No Malfoy can snatch you away from me.” He pulled his shoulders up, spreading his hands wide. “But, since you told me you don’t love me anymore, you force me to make you love me again.” He shook a vial before her nose.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, recognising the rosy liquid - a love potion.

“You’ll drink this like a good girl, you’ll fall in love with me instantly, and we’ll be happy forever after. I have it all figured out. I even brought a nice engagement ring to announce our engagement.” He grinned in excitement. “I grew smart since the Auror training, wasn’t my spell casting swift and perfect? You must be so proud of me.”

He misjudged the dangerous glint in her eyes. She was planning his disposal as soon as an opportunity opened. However, his  _ Incarcerous  _ left her with no room to wiggle her fingers and his bloody gag prevented her from using wandless magic. What he thought was pride, in reality was a searing volcano on the verge of eruption.

-oOo-

Draco overtook his slow-in-every-sense-of-the-word-friend, "Longbottom, is Hermione inside?"

"Hello Draco, I'm sorry," he said, shifting from one foot to the other, "but I can't tell you that." Longbottom had courageously slain Nagini, but still got nervous around him.

"Longbottom…”  _ Time to use another approach, _ "Neville-" his hand gently rested on Longbottom's shoulder, "Mate, listen, I worry for Hermione, my cron- I mean Greg here told me that Weasel- ley plans to force Hermione to see the truth." He kept things friendly, despite the crystal flashing an angry red.

"Ron would never hurt Hermione, Goyle must have misunderstood Ronald." Neville shook his head, dumb faced, jerking slightly away from the blonds' hold. "He wanted to talk things out to be sure she meant to end their relationship like she said in her letter."

Greg mumbled, "That's what he said: confirm she wanted to break up and make her see the truth."

"See what truth?" Neville looked confused.

"I don't know. Weasel said she needed to see the truth, and asked me to guard the door so no one could get in." Greg raised his shoulders, patting his breast pocket for another toffee.

"Neville, listen to me. He's going to force her to take him back. It wouldn't surprise me if he makes her drink a love potion. He knows she's spending time with me; it's public knowledge." Draco's fingers itched to throttle Neville until the bloke saw reason. His breathing sped up. The crystal had turned black, a sign of heavy stress.

"Ron would never hurt her, believe me." Neville maintained steady eye contact even if his hands trembled. "I'm not letting you enter without his permission."

Draco faced the other wizard, releasing his hold on Neville, "Greg, mate. Please, Granger is in grave peril." His plea fell on deaf ears. To his frustration, Greg found unwrapping the candy more important than a possibly dangerous situation.

Fed up, Draco spun around, ran all the way down to the dungeons, growling and shoving anyone in his path.

Out of breath, he burst the Slytherin common room and grabbed Theo by the collar, "You come with me," looking around he noticed Blaise, “You too... I need your arses."

Theo fought the fist around his collar uselessly, gasping and struggling to stay upright, "If you release me, I can run faster."

Blaise looked at him scornfully, but moved along, "Malfoy, tell us first where's the fire?"

Draco paused, faced his mates and gritting his teeth, he said, "That dumbshit of Goyle and Longbottom are guarding the Room of Requirement, while Hermione is trapped inside with the Weasel. I bet my family's entire vault he'll force her to drink a love potion."

"If you can prove it, his arse will be fired from the Auror's corps faster than he can say Hippogriff." Blaise sprinted after the two Slytherins “You're probably just being paranoid. He must be smarter than this!"

"At this point, I think Weaselbee and his lazy arse care shit about being an Auror." Draco ran, arm stretched out and ready to shove whoever got in his way. Not that one soul did such, everyone avoiding him as he flew by, probably suspecting that the Malfoy heir had finally lost his marbles. Theo and Blaise followed closely behind.

Out of breath - Draco cursed himself for skipping his workouts in favour of more Granger time - the three arrived, Greg and Longbottom still standing guard outside the Room of Requirement.

Without hesitation, Draco cast a  _ Petrificus Totalus _ at Neville, "Longbottom, I'm sorry man, you can hex my arse one time as payback, I won't fight you. I need to rescue the woman I love." Neville stared back, imploring ' _ not again _ ' _ ! _

Theo stared at his blond friend astonished, and Blaise mocked, "Love? Oh man... you're so roasted if your mother finds out."

"My mother knows." Draco dismissed Blaise's comment with a wave, facing Greg with his sweetest smile, "Greg, I saw a cauldron cake fly in the air buddy, right around the corner."

"Ah-ha, cauldron cakes don't fly." Greg guffawed, his features freezing in place uncertain as he stared at the serious-looking faces of Blaise and Theo, "They don't fly, do they?"

Theo nodded, "Some do, Goyle. I believe this one had extra orange frosting. I almost took it, but I'm so full..." Theo patted his stomach.

Studying the bobbing heads, the chubby boy stepped one foot, then another, before sprinting around the corner a second later.

"Won't he be back soon?" Blaise frowned at the display.  _ You had dumb and dumber... _

"He'll keep running, thinking the cake has a head start." Draco asserted, aware of how gullible his old friend was. He stared at the wizard on the floor, concerned, "Longbottom, I didn't want to hurt you, but you left me no choice. Hermione is in real danger."

Taking a deep breath, Draco mumbled before the supposed location of the door, pacing back and forth, "I want to enter the room where Hermione is in." On his fifth turn, the outlines of the door emerged slowly. "I'll take down Weaselbee while you free Granger from whatever he has her bound with," he told his friends as the three stormed into the room, wands at ready. 

Their jaws fell open at the sight that greeted them. Tied to a chair, Hermione squirmed and screeched, fighting against the Weasel, who had one hand above her mouth holding an open glass vial and the other hand struggling to remove the gag.

" _ Stupefy _ !" Thanks to his seeker instincts, Draco recovered his senses first and attacked Ron on sight, but the Auror-trainee sidestepped the spell just in time.

"Oh, bloody sake, can't Neville do something decent for once?" The redhead cursed taking his wand from within his robes, " _ Expellia- _ "

" _ Protego _ !  _ Impedimenta _ !" Draco fired hex after hex, " _ Flippendo _ !"

Theo released Hermione of her binds, " _ Relashio. _ "

"Ron has my wand!" Her frizzled hair reflected her mood, "Accio Hermione's wand! Ron! How dare you!" She sprinted frenzied to Draco's side, who was looking down at the redhead after a successful  _ Stupefy _ .

Bloodthirsty, Hermione added a series of stinging jinxes, "Ronald… Weasley… you… fuckwit!" The hexing wasn't enough to feed her vengeance. She revived him from Draco's stupefy and decked him in the nose, a move that was very familiar to a certain blond wizard. In an instinctive reaction, Draco even rubbed his nose in sympathy, never letting down his guard.

"But, Hermione...Mione…" Ron whimpered, holding two fingers pressed tight against his bleeding nose, "Fuck, this hurts. You're my world!"

"WHAT GOING ON INSIDE THIS ROOM?" Professor McGonagall's voice reverberated through the stone walls. Neville shuffled behind, still recovering from his petrification. "Mr. Weasley, why were you holding Miss Granger hostage? Mr Malfoy, forsake your duelling posture, there will be no more fighting inside this room."

Blaise kept his distance to avoid attention but paid proper notice to all useful gossip. His mate Draco, acting as Granger's hero, Weaselbee cowering under the murderous glare of his former girlfriend  _ and  _ under the accusing stare from Headmistress… He wouldn't believe it if he hadn't seen it himself.

"Mr. Weasley, I can't believe you have abused my trust to get inside the school under false pretences but with the clear intention of committing a crime." Ron flinched at each accusation. "I have notified the Ministry, and I expect the Aurors at any minute." The words were barely uttered when Harry and two officers entered the room. Ron's face turned redder than his hair.

Harry gave his best friend a confused stare. Ron stammered, "I'm losing Mione to the Death Eater ferret, I couldn't let that happen. Harry, you have to help me!"

Hermione yelled, "Ronald, how dare you!" She gave him a threatening jab in the chest with her wand, "I'm not your property!"

"But Mione…" He inched closer, but Draco stepped in. "Step aside, git." 

"Draco!" Blaise whistled and threw a vial to his friend, who caught it mid-air.

"Headmistress McGonagall, I strongly believe Wease...Weasley wanted to force-feed Hermione a love potion. You can still see traces of pink liquid inside." He handed over the glass vial. Weaselbee's shoulders sagged in defeat.

Hermione confirmed it quickly, "Ronald was threatening me with this vial. If it wasn't for Draco's intervention…"

"Harry, buddy, you've got to help me…" Ron pleaded, arms tightly held behind his back by the two Aurors, "I can't lose Mione."

"Ron, I'm having trouble comprehending your behaviour. I thought that you moved on, you told me so just two days ago, for Godric's sake." Harry raked a hand over his hair, the mess reflecting his confusion.

"But it's Mione and the git…" Ron's pleaded with an agonised face. "I love Mione..."

Draco nearly tripped as Hermione forcefully shoved him to the side to jab her former boyfriend with her wand once more. "You slimy bastard, you were going to force a love potion down my throat! Let's see how you like it shoved down your own foul mouth, you fucknugget!"

"MISS GRANGER! Your language!" McGonagall's words fell on empty ears.

Hermione shouted, " _ AVIS _ !"

A series of birds shot out of her wand, straight into Ron, who in vain attempted to fend off the sharp beaks. "Ouch, ouch, make them stop!" He screeched, "AHH! Harry, help me! Please!"

Harry intervened seconds before McGonagall reacted, stopping the avian attack successfully.

Draco caught the brunette by the waist, twisting her away from Ron. "Calm down, Weaselbee has enough problems as it is. Don't get yourself in trouble, he's not worth it." He spoke calmly into her ear, "You're safe now, I've got you." 

"He's was going to force me to be with him!" Despite her anger, her movements stalled, soothed by Draco's presence. "You came for me."

"I will always come for you." He tightened his hold around her waist, pressing her. Hermione turned within the circle of his arms. 

Everything else faded to nothing around them. Therefore, they didn't see Ron being dragged away by a visibly pained Harry and the other two Aurors. 

Blaise grinning obscenely, basking in all the attention he received while recounting the facts. 

A confused looking Neville, still feeling the lingering after-effects of Draco's spell, supported by Theo, who wore a lopsided smile watching the sight the pair made.

A Headmistress torn between interrupting the intimate moment to lecture the couple about their inappropriate behaviour or postponing it for a later time. The older woman chose the latter.

Eyes only for each other, the pair noticed nothing else. 

Draco placed his hand between her shoulder blades, fingers spread open to draw her closer. Hermione's arms encircled his neck, fingers twisting into his hair to pull his head down, while lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

"Always?" The anger in her gaze had been replaced by another fiery emotion. Her brown eyes reflected the passion mirrored in his grey ones.

"Until my last breath. You saved me from the darkness. If it weren't for you…" A hand pressed on the back of his head until their lips met, effectively muting his declaration. First, it was only a brief touch, barely felt, which was followed by a possessive claiming, teeth clashing, tongues twirling, his grunt vibrating against her moan.

It would remain an enigma, how the Room closed its door and gave the couple the privacy they required without them actually asking as much. In a blink of the eye, the looming interior transformed itself into a candlelit room, the sizzling flames in the fireplace casting a yellow glow over an inviting king-sized bed with red velvet comforter and plush pillows.

###  *Present Day*

"Mummy, why did Uncle Ron try to steal you from Daddy?" Each time Draco released some of the pressure on her sides, Lyra hopped on his stomach as if he was her favourite beanbag. Fatherhood wasn't always a walk in the park.

"Uncle Ron was confused, darling." Hermione pinched the armpit underneath her cheek, retaliating to Draco's snort. "He didn't mean to steal…"

"Daddy was your big hero, wasn't he?" Scorpius' grey eyes sparkled; they were a perfect copy of his father's, a fact Narcissa often loved to repeat, especially when her grandson made mischief so similar to what Draco used to do at that age. 

"He wasn't my hero. He still  _ is  _ my hero." A chest puffed under her face. 

It took longer than two years, some severe grovelling and an insane amount of pleading from Harry to smooth things over. Blaise had spread the gossip with pleasure, and once it caught Molly's ears, Ron didn't know where to hide.

But Hermione seemed unable to remain angry at Ron, over time, the friendship was restored to a certain degree. Sundays became the Weasley's brunch-day, and Molly babysat Scorpius and Lyra from their birth as Hermione immediately returned to her Wizengamot seat - she was currently considering running for Minister in the next elections.

A budding friendship grew between Harry and Draco, once both let go of the past. Nowadays, their disputes were settled in the air, during amicable Quidditch matches played either on the Malfoy Manor grounds or at the Burrow, with Ginny always playing chaser for Draco's team, under the pretence that it was great for their sex life.

Oh well…

"Mummy, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Scorpius put his Malfoy charm to good use, blinking quickly and smiling widely, head slightly tilted.

"Only if you get downstairs in a heartbeat!" Hermione couldn't rush them fast enough. 

However, while sliding down, Lyra accidentally dragged the sheet with her.

"Oopsie," she giggled behind her little hand but froze in place the next second. Eyes wide open and a tiny finger pointing towards the body part, she squeaked, "Daddy! Your little snake is naked!"

Her father covered his bits as quickly as possible, flushing under his daughter's scrutinising gaze.

"Why aren't you wearing knickers, daddy? We have to wear them; you tell us so all the time!"

The snickering left from Draco caught Lyra's attention, "Mummy! I can see your behind too! That's not fair; you make us wear knickers every day!!" The girl stomped her foot, offended while her brother tittered behind his hand, having never seen his mum and dad blush so red before.

Scorpius pushed her gently forward, "Lyra, let's go downstairs and ask Tilly for pancakes. I think mummy and daddy were kissy-kissing."

"Blah, that's so gross…" The girl scrunched her face, grabbing her brothers' hand. 

Scorpius thought it was funny to see his mummy and daddy this embarrassed, though he did share his sister's opinion. Kissy-kiss was gross. He would never do such a thing, ever!

-The End-


End file.
